


Simmer Dim

by festivalofpudding (berreh)



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack-Sticks, Don't Google That, Fishy Frottage, Link Wants the D(olphin-like genital structure), M/M, Merman Rhett, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 00:32:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15594294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berreh/pseuds/festivalofpudding
Summary: Link is a marine biologist who has spent his academic career searching for intelligent life in the ocean. Aided by intrepid boat captain Jen, Link is about to find what he's looking for -- and a whole lot more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Babashook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babashook/gifts).



> I started working on this fic as a quickie cheer-up crackfic for @Babashook, who was having a bad day. Being me, it spawned into a... thing. Here's hoping it still cheers him up, and you too. :) With many thanks and undying love to TheGreyHenley for her help and encouragement.

_the north Atlantic Ocean_  
_between Shetland and the Faroes_

Link was dozing in a deck chair behind his row of monitors when a shrill beep made him snort and sit up. He threw his hoodie back and leaned forward to squint at the display — his eyes went wide, and he straightened his skewed glasses and laughed aloud.

“Jen! Jen!”

The bridge door opened and a blonde head appeared. “What, what’s wrong?!”

“Come look at this.”

“Link, I’m kinda busy...”

“It’s back. It’s back! I’m serious, come look!”

Jen sighed and climbed down to the deck, tucking a stray hair beneath her bandanna. She was in shirt sleeves and cargo shorts to enjoy the sunny June weather, but her Canadian blood handled the sea wind much better than Link’s Carolina constitution, and he kept his hoodie zipped as he rolled his chair closer to point at one monitor.

“The thermograph again?” Jen said.

“No, the sonar. Right there — see that?”

She leaned over his shoulder and peered at the screen. “Could be a dolphin.”

“No, I know what dolphin readings look like.” His fingers flew across the keys, bringing up multiple readouts across several displays. “Look at these patterns. It’s just like before.”

“It’s pretty close, yeah.”

“It’s not just close. It’s the same. These readings were all made by the same source.”

“Link—”

“Data doesn’t lie, Jen. Look for yourself. I wasn’t sure before, but now I am — all the signs are there. This is the organism I’ve been looking for, and it’s been following us for days. Look how fast it maneuvers, not too close, not too far… no, dolphins are smart, but this thing is smarter. It moves like a cephalopod, but it’s warm blooded.”

“That’s... not really a thing, Neal.”

“It is now.” He ran both hands through his hair, beaming. “This is it. This is what I’ve been looking for. There is an intelligent mammal in these waters unlike anything known to science.”

“Maybe it’s a mermaid.”

He glared at her over the rim of his glasses. “You know what, I’m sorry I bothered you. Why don’t you go haul some topsails or batten your hatches or whatever it is you do.”

Jen laughed and threw an arm around his shoulder. “Hey, don’t get salty, dude, I’m just yanking your chain. I’m on your team, remember? If I didn’t believe you, would I be spending my summer hauling your ass around the subarctic when I could be cruising the Caribbean? Huh? Am I right?” She shook him a few times, stuck an elbow in his ribs. “Am I right? Buddy? Huh? Am I right?”

His frown was mostly a pout now. “Maybe.”

“I know what’ll earn your forgiveness. How about a big ol’ mess of Jen’s famous fish and chips for dinner tonight? Hm? Plenty of beer left in the fridge.”

She grinned at him and waggled her eyebrows until he grinned back, then elbowed him again and hopped down the ladder below decks. The radio flipped on in the galley, spewing out tinny classic rock, and Link smiled and turned his attention back to his monitors.

Jen was a good friend — she kept him from taking himself too seriously, but when it came to work she was just as disciplined as he was; and she was one of the few people he trusted enough to discuss his research with. Since he was a kid Link had been convinced intelligent life existed in the ocean; after all, we know more about other galaxies than we do about our own seas. But it wasn’t some Discovery Channel thing; he had no interest in being _The Man Who Swam with Fish Monsters, tonight at 9!_ or whatever. He didn’t spend his summers shivering on Jen’s boat to hunt down some mythical beast — he was here for one reason, to prove that humans are not the only intelligent species on this planet. He was closer now to finding it than he had ever been. It was out there somewhere, right now — not a green blob of static on a sonar screen or a set of strange thermal readings, but an actual living being. First thing tomorrow, Link would suit up and find it. It would still be out there, he knew. After seeing these readings, if he wasn’t a scientist, he might have thought it was looking for him too.

***

After supper they went up on deck to watch the evening sun. This time of year it only dipped below the horizon for a few short hours of dusk: the ‘simmer dim’, the long twilight, the Scottish version of midnight sun. The endless light wreaked havoc on Link’s circadian rhythm, but it was a beautiful thing to see. Lounging in their deck chairs, bellies full of fish and beer, they watched the crimson and orange sunset fade into the deep golds and pinks of the dim, streaked with violet-white, mirrored perfectly on the horizon with no land or lights to mar the view. To the east the sky darkened nearly to indigo, and here and there a few stars managed to peek through. After a long sunny day the air was almost balmy, and the sea was still as glass in every direction. Link smiled at Jen, his earlier tetchiness forgotten. Life at sea could often be chilly and damp but he found something calming in these still, silent hours — it was solitary and peaceful, kind of like his life.

Eventually he yawned and said, “I might head to bed, I think. I want to get in the water tomorrow as soon as my suit warms up.”

“Good call, it’s late. Oh, can you help me set a couple drop lines first? I threw the scraps out for the fish, we ought to catch a few.”

“They’ll eat that stuff?”

“Everyone likes my cooking.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Link said, and leaned over to clink his beer against hers. As she did the same, something banged into the hull hard enough to make them both jump.

“What was that?” Link gasped.

“Something hit us.”

She was already on her feet. Link dropped his beer and scrambled to follow her down the ladder to the tank room. Years ago Jen had converted her boat from a fishing trawler to a research vessel; a solid plexiglass pane cordoned off the rear half of the hold, creating a tank for tagging and treating sea life. The rest of the hold stowed their supplies and more of Link’s equipment, including monitors for the hull cameras and the controls for the diving cage outside. Something had slammed into the cage with enough force for them to feel it above decks; Link hurried to turn on the cameras while Jen checked for damage.

“Hatch is fine,” she called. “Whatever ran into us was a big bastard. Shark?”

“There’s only porbeagle sharks this far north. Can’t be a whale, we’d’ve seen it. Maybe a juvenile?”

He switched on the camera monitors — at first he couldn’t make out anything in the murky nighttime water, but then Jen turned on the hull lights and he yelped. “Holy shit!”

The most enormous porbeagle he had ever set eyes on was trying its damnedest to get into the diving cage. Whatever it was chasing must have slipped between the bars to escape — but rather than giving up and moving on, the shark thrashed violently against the cage, gnawing at the bars with its needle-like teeth.

“Look at that thing!” Jen cried. “It’s gotta be a ten footer.”

“Can it damage the hatch?”

“Nah, my baby’s tougher than that. It might mess up your cage, though. We better reel it in.”

“The shark?!”

“No, Neal, the cage!”

“Oh, right.”

It was tricky work: they had to open the hatch just enough to pull the cage into the tank, but not enough to let the shark in too. Fortunately the bright lights turning on in its face threw the porbeagle off kilter, and the noise from the grinding gears added to its disorientation. It whacked its snout against the bars a few more times, snapping its razor-toothed jaws; but as the cage withdrew into the hatch the shark knew it was thwarted, and reluctantly it backed off and swam angrily away to seek its dinner elsewhere. The hatch sealed tight, and the diving cage settled to the tank bottom with a muffled thump.

Jen and Link approached the tank wall, squinting through the plexiglass. At first all they could see were swirling air bubbles, but gradually a large shape became visible. It lay motionless on the cage’s floor, obscured by dim lighting and dark tendrils swirling in the water around it — blood. The porbeagle had managed to get at its prey after all.

“What is that?” Jen said.

“I don’t know... but it’s not a fish.”

Maybe it was the low light or a weird angle, but the shape looked far bigger than it should be: well over six feet, far too long and thin to be a dolphin or whale calf. Could it be some kind of overgrown sea lamprey? Or maybe some type of...

The bubbles cleared away, and Link’s mouth fell open. Beside him, Jen swore beneath her breath.

“Link… are you seeing this?”

Together they stared into the tank, where the shark’s quarry lay unmoving on its back. From the pelvis down it was distinctly cetacean — but from the abdomen up it bore the unmistakable anatomy of a human man.

“What the crap,” Link breathed.

He sprinted up the steps to the catwalk that ran along the tank’s upper edge. His hands shook so badly it took him three tries to get hold of the cage lever; when he finally yanked it the cage collapsed outward like a flattened box, sending its occupant rolling gently to the tank floor. The tail unfurled: a long, tubular peduncle, smooth-skinned like a dolphin but ending in wide, forked caudal fins like a tropical fish. They wafted gently in the water, a gauzy pale green. Their owner lay facing away from them, unconscious, and tendril of fresh blood drifted up from its midsection.

“He’s hurt,” Link called. “Help me.”

Jen raced up the steps and together they grabbed the stretcher net and swung it into the water. Carefully, Link maneuvered it down to the inert body and used the probe arm to gently roll it onto its back until it settled sprawling across the net.

“He’s too big,” Jen said. “Jiminy Christmas, he must be seven feet long.”

“C’mon, let’s get him up.”

Not for nothing were Jen and Link notorious armwrestling hustlers in their college years; between them they turned the crank so fast that they hoisted the stretcher to a foot or so below the surface in a few short seconds. One final crank brought its occupant fully into the light, and Link almost dropped the handle. He slammed the lock and fell to his knees on the walkway, leaning over the water to gaze down at his patient.

It _was_ a man. The tail merged into a male human abdomen, complete with belly button; the skin was hairless and slick, a pale tea-green striped with shades of moss and olive along the rib cage, the chest and shoulders dotted with little splotches like freckles. The arms were long and slender with large, graceful hands, with long fingers connected by thick translucent webbing — _like the Man from Atlantis_ , Link thought wildly. The face was turned to one side, exposing the neck, where two gills pulsed slowly in time with the carotid artery. The upturned ear was large and shell-like, pointed at the tip, ear canal covered by a membrane. A similar membrane blocked the nostrils, but the rest of the features were astonishingly human, green skin notwithstanding: strong brow ridge, straight nose, curved cheekbones, small mouth, and a head of thick seaweed-colored hair waving like a pompadour in the water. He even had a beard. A _beard._

“This can’t be real,” Link murmured.

But one thing was very real: no matter how skilled someone might be with makeup, no one could fake the gaping wound on the lower right side, just above the hip bone. The sight of blood usually made Link queasy (at best), but he was too flabbergasted to notice more than a passing wave of nausea. It was enough to snap him out of his daze: his scientist brain switched on, and he shifted into action mode. He was a marine biologist, and here was a marine creature who needed his help.

“He’s bleeding pretty bad,” Jen said. “Can you stitch him up?”

In answer, Link opened his medkit and pulled on a pair of surgical gloves.

Jen turned on a lamp for him, and he reached into the water to examine the wound. It was real, alright, and the tissues appeared to combine mammalian and piscine anatomy. The skin and fat layer had been slashed by the porbeagle’s vicious teeth, but the muscle beneath looked unharmed, and the bleeding had already slowed. Quickly and efficiently, Link cleaned and stitched the wound; after applying an antibiotic patch, he pulled off the blood-streaked gloves and wiped the sweat from his brow with one forearm.

“That’s the best I can do. We’ll just have to wait and— what are you doing?”

Jen looked up from her phone. “Preserving this for posterity. Don’t you want a video record? Like, for science? This is a big deal, Link. The first human contact with an actual, real-life merm—”

“Don’t call him that.”

“But that’s what he is. You know that, right? That’s what he is.”

“Turn it off.” Link got up and began pacing the walkway, running a hand through his hair. “I need to think for a minute.”

“We have to tell someone about this.”

“No! No, not yet.”

“You can’t hide this, Neal! You just made the biggest scientific discovery since… I don’t know what, but it’s pretty damn big. You’re gonna be famous! Aren’t you freaking out right now?”

“You have no idea how much I am freaking out right now. But the minute we say something all hell’s gonna break loose, and that’s the last thing we need. I can’t get any useful data with cameras shoved in my face, and besides, he’s hurt. No, we gotta keep this quiet for now. Just a day or two, until I can get some data.”

“Well... if I leave the engines off we can hang out here for a couple days. That’ll give you some time to get him back on his, uh, fins.” She snapped off the lamp and stood up, hands on her hips. “So... what do we do now?”

“We watch him. I’ll sleep on the cot in here tonight so I can be here when he wakes up. It’s probably just shock, but I want to make sure he doesn’t have any other injuries.”

“OK, if you’re sure. But you call me if you need me, alright?”

“I will. And Jen — thank you.”

“You did it, Neal. You found what you were looking for.” He couldn’t find the words to reply to that, so she grinned and said, “Come on, I’ll help you get him tucked in.”

Carefully they lowered the stretcher to the bottom and let their patient roll gently onto the floor. Jen stowed the dripping net while Link cleaned up his medical kit, and then they climbed down and switched off the lights, leaving only the muted glow from Link’s equipment and the emergency lighting. For a minute or two they stood side by side in the darkened room, peering into the tank in silence, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“I’m gonna go set those fishing lines before I turn in,” Jen said. “Looks like we’ve got another mouth to feed.” She put a hand on Link’s shoulder and added, “Don’t stay up too late.”

“I couldn’t sleep tonight if I tried.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” she replied. “Night, Link.”

“G’night.”

She headed above decks, and soon he heard her knocking around from room to room, going through her checklist of whatever boat captains do before they turn in for the night.

For a long time Link stood before the plexiglass, watching his discovery sleep. The shimmering effect from the soft lighting gave his green skin an eerie, otherworldly glow; his dark hair wafted gently in the water, and his gills pulsed in a slow, steady rhythm. Link’s brain felt as if it would burst — there was so much to learn, so much to discover. Right now it was all he could do just to acknowledge this was happening at all. It had all happened so fast — somehow, without even trying, he had found something even more remarkable than what he had been looking for. Somehow, what he was seeking had found him first.

He kept a cot in the hold for napping breaks during research; he dragged it up beside the tank and stretched out on his side, pillowing his head on his hoodie. He watched his patient sleep: the light playing across the shimmery skin, the gauzy fins rippling in the current. One long green arm curled protectively across the wounded belly; the other lay stretched out toward him, palm up, as if beckoning Link with those knobby webbed fingers. This was real, Link knew. He was real. Link couldn’t wait to meet him.

***

Link was awakened by a deafening scream. He nearly fell off the cot as he lurched to his feet, glasses askew, tripping over himself in his fright.

“Jen—?!”

No one there. The room was dark and empty, undisturbed. The echoes of that scream should have been ringing through the pipes, but there was nothing — nothing but a muffled thumping coming from inside the tank. Link whirled to see its occupant clutching at the wall with both hands, having just swum full-force into the plexiglass. Had _he_ screamed? Surely not — the water would have smothered it into a bubbling warble, but Link had heard it as clear as day: a wordless, ear-piercing shriek of terror. Maybe it was a nightmare; maybe it was Link who woke up in a fright and startled the creature, not the other way around.

By the time he fixed his glasses with trembling hands it had stopped thrashing and was hovering in the water, staring at Link with huge, frightened eyes. It was the first time he saw those eyes: large, round, unmistakably self-aware, opaque greenish-gray irises covering nearly the entire sclera like two polished opals. They looked into Link’s eyes, blinking swiftly beneath thick green brows, and Link’s breath left him.

“I knew it. You’re not just intelligent... you’re _sentient_.”

He shrank back when Link came closer, but he didn’t swim away.

“It’s alright,” Link told him. “The shark’s gone. You’re OK.”

 _He doesn’t understand, dumbass..._ But the sound of Link’s voice did seem to calm him a little. The momentary panic was gone; he looked at Link not with confusion but with curiosity and... yes, with recognition. He swam closer but then winced in pain and looked down at himself, at the antibiotic patch over his wound. Gingerly he touched the patch with one long webbed finger.

“I stitched you up. That shark was pissed — you’re lucky to be alive.”

_You’re talking to him like he can hear you._

But he could — maybe not the words, but the meaning. Link could see it in those big gray eyes. He blinked down at the patch, then looked up at Link and smiled: not an animal’s grimace, but a bright, human smile. Beneath the beard flashed a row of small pointed teeth, so sharp and jagged they made Link flinch — but the reaction passed as quickly as it came. Those might be the teeth of a predator, but the smile was that of a friend.

“You’re welcome,” he said, and smiled back.

If he was sentient, that meant he could communicate. How would such a species converse? Perhaps something like whale-song, or some form of sign language? It was worth a try. Link put a hand to his chest and spoke as loudly and clearly as he could.

“My name is Link. Link. That’s me. Can you understand what I’m saying?”

He tilted his head in what was either a nod or a bemused copy of Link’s gesturing.

“Do you have a name? Name?” Link patted his chest again and then pointed, raising his eyebrows in inquiry. “I’m Link... and you’re...”

Noise exploded in his head, sending him reeling backward. The creature flinched too, and the green brows drew together in alarm; the noise ceased as abruptly as it began, leaving a dwindling echo of clicks and trills in Link’s brain.

Link opened his eyes and stared in shock as he realized what had just happened. He did understand. That was his language. That was his _name_. Of course! A telepathic species. That terrified scream — it had been a nightmare, but not Link’s. And Jen couldn’t hear it because it wasn’t calling for her. It was calling for Link.

The strange sounds lingered in his head, frightening, fascinating. The last syllable rolled around like an echo before fading away: a kind of vibrating purr, ending in something vaguely like _red_ or _ret_. Link put a hand to the tank wall, the plexiglass cold against his palm.

“Rhett,” he said softly. “That’s what I’ll call you. Rhett.”

And then he thought: _Hello, Rhett. I’m Link._

One webbed hand spread against his on the other side of the glass. In his head Link heard a soft, purring voice.

_Llllinnk. Hhelllo._

Link smiled, and Rhett smiled too.


	2. Chapter 2

So many questions piled up in Link’s head that he didn’t know where to start. He started talking before he could stop himself; he knew he was babbling, and he knew his words didn’t carry through the tank, and he knew Rhett couldn’t understand them anyway, and yet he couldn’t contain his excitement. Rhett watched him curiously, but with no sign of comprehension. Finally Link forced himself to stop and take a breath. If Rhett couldn’t understand his language, perhaps he could communicate in Rhett’s.

He closed his eyes and tried to picture Rhett swimming in the ocean; loitering around the diving cage; the churning wake of the ship’s engines; a green blip on the sonar screen. Onto this he projected a sense of questioning: _Why?_

The answer came to him at once: an image of Rhett leaning against the hull beneath the sheerline rail, bright sunlight filtering down on him as he munched happily on a large chunk of fish guts. Link’s eyes snapped open.

“Jen’s scraps. She was feeding you and she didn’t even know it.”

Rhett rubbed his tummy and grinned.

“That’s why that porbeagle was after you — he couldn’t have been hunting you, you’re way too big. He just wanted all the food for himself.” Link frowned. “I hate bullies.”

His memory must have been stronger than he realized, because Rhett’s grin vanished and his gills flared and then went flat. He looked down at his abdomen, put a hand over his bandaged wound and winced.

“It’s not deep,” Link said. “That was smart thinking, getting in the cage.” How did he know how to open the latch? But that was a question for another time. Distasteful as it was, he conjured up the memory of tending the wound: Rhett lying unconscious on the stretcher while Link sewed him up, bloody gloved hands staining the water, Jen looking on in concern. He tried to convey a sense of reassurance, that Link had helped him, that things were alright now. Rhett merely blinked at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I should take a look at it, actually, make sure you didn’t bust a stitch. I can do it in the water, but you have to come up. Is that OK?” Link gestured to the walkway. “Up? Yes?”

Rhett glanced up, considered, then nodded. By the time Link climbed the steps he heard a splash and saw Rhett pop up directly in front of him, arms crossed on the metal lip with his chin resting on his hands. His hair, tall and wavy underwater, lay plastered to his temples in green strings, and his beard dripped water onto Link’s feet.

“Oh — um, OK. That works too. Can you breathe up here?”

Rhett opened his mouth and drew in a big breath, then closed it and sprayed water from his gills in a loud spewing honk. Link jumped back and yelped, and Rhett erupted in a series of squeaky _snirksnirk_ sounds that seemed an awful lot like a giggle.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?”

But he was too fascinated to be annoyed. The gills sealed so well they nearly disappeared, and Rhett’s chest now moved with each breath. Auxiliary lungs — amphibian anatomy in addition to mammalian and piscine. What an amazing evolutionary synthesis this species was.

Opening the medkit, he sat down on the walkway and pulled on a latex glove.

“I just need to take a quick look. Can you maybe lean—”

Abruptly Rhett hoisted himself up and sat down beside him with a wet little _splat_. His tail remained in the water, fins waving like a kid dangling his feet in a creek. He reached over and grabbed the railing, putting his bandaged abdomen directly in Link’s face.

_Yyyyyessss?_

That voice in his head was still unsettling — like a finger down the backbone, a whisper in the ear. “Um, yeah, that’s good. Thanks.”

Carefully Link peeled off the antibiotic patch. The wound looked stable, closing nicely with no signs of infection, and he nodded. “Perfect. We don’t need this anymore.”

As he turned to discard the patch, his knuckle accidentally bumped against one suture — Rhett’s gills spluttered and he flinched in pain.

“Sorry!” Link blurted. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

He put a hand on Rhett’s side to steady him. Rhett looked down at it, pale fingers against his green skin, and held up one of his own hands in comparison. His fingers were a bit too long to be human, with knobby joints; no prints, no nails, just a small dent at the end of each fingertip. The webbing turned translucent when he spread his fingers; if Link squinted he could almost see through the greenish membrane. He squinted to study it, and Rhett flexed his fingers as a set of sharp talons at least an inch long sprang from his fingertips like a cat baring its claws. Link gasped and jerked back, sending Rhett into more _snirksnirksnirk_ giggles. His eyes, big and blinking behind their thick sclera, glinted at Link with mischief.

_Ssssorrry._

It caught Link so off guard that he burst out laughing. Rhett’s brows rose, and Link wondered if he had ever heard a human laugh before. They giggled together like a couple of boys, Link’s _heeheehees_ and Rhett’s _snirksnirksnirks_ , and then Link patted him on the shoulder and pulled off his glove.

“Your stitches look good. They’ll dissolve in a couple days, but I want to keep you here until they do, just to make sure there’s no infection. OK? Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Rhett nodded.

“Cool. Well, right now, I think the best thing for both of us is to get some rest. You should try to go back to sleep if you can.” He folded his hands beneath his head in a sleeping gesture. “Rest? Yeah? Does that sound good?”

Rhett hopped into the water and stretched out his arms to float on his back, green hair spreading out in a fan around his face. He closed his eyes and exhaled, and promptly sank to the bottom amid a trail of tiny air bubbles.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Link said.

***

When Jen climbed down into the hold the next morning she found Link sitting cross-legged on the cot surrounded by piles of notebooks, sketch pads, textbooks, and laptops. He dropped the paper he was writing on and scrambled to his feet, sending pencils and sticky-notes flying.

“You’re not gonna believe this,” he began, and then the words started pouring from him in a flood. She stood there blinking while he told her everything, from waking up to Rhett’s scream in his head to his own brief attempt to go back to sleep, then giving up and spending the past few hours scribbling and sketching while Rhett snoozed on the tank floor.

“He understands us — I mean, he doesn’t understand English, not really, though he’s already picking up words from me, he’s really very smart, but their language isn’t based on any form of human communication, they’re almost entirely telepathic, you know it’s funny, I read a theory once that dolphins—”

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘telepathic’?”

“—I mean it makes sense if you think about it, sound doesn’t travel through water the same way it does through air, I thought maybe they’d use something like whalesong or whatever but I never expected this, you know? I wouldn’t have believed it either but I can hear him in my head, I’m not even sure if he’s learning English or if my brain’s just learning to hear it way, I told Rhett I didn’t know if we’d be able to—”

“You told who?”

That brought the flood of words to a halt. “Oh. Um. That’s… kind of what I’m calling him. You know, like as a name. Rhett.”

Jen arched an eyebrow. “Well, I do declare.”

Link cleared his throat. “The point is, this is not some isolated evolutionary glitch. This is a separate sentient humanoid species, one that evolved in the ocean instead of on land.”

She approached him somewhat cautiously, and he suddenly wondered what he must look like: sweaty and sleep-deprived, running on adrenaline, unshaven with his hair disheveled from running his hand through it while he wrote.

“I think you should get something to eat, Link, maybe sleep a little bit, and then you can think about this more clearly. I mean, granted, this thing looks like a person, but—”

“Come here.” He grabbed her wrist dragged her over to the tank where Rhett, awakened by the noise of Link’s rambling, had swum closer to look at Jen in curiosity.

“Rhett, this is my friend Jen.” He tapped her shoulder: _Jen._

_Jjjjjenn._

Jen flinched and whirled full circle. “Did you hear that?” She turned to stare wide-eyed first at Link, then at Rhett. “Was that you?”

_Hhhello Jjjjenn._

“Holy shit.”

Rhett bared his teeth in a smile.

“Link... dude. This is some James Cameron level-shit right here. What are you gonna do?”

“What do you mean, what am I gonna do? I’m gonna study him!”

“Yeah, but... I mean, if this is really a whole other species, they obviously don’t want humans to know about them or else we would already, you know what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, maybe. I haven’t really thought about that. But anyway, Rhett’s different — he’s just as curious about us as we are about him. He’s been following us for days, eating your fishing scraps.”

“Really?” She glanced at Rhett, who rubbed his tummy happily. “You know what, I haven’t checked the drop lines yet. He’s probably hungry.” To Rhett she said loudly: “How about it, big guy? You hungry? Nice fresh fish, precious?”

Rhett’s ears twitched and he nodded with enthusiasm.

She went up on deck to haul in her lines, while Link tried to gather up his scattered mess of books and papers. Rhett watched him scurry about, his head tilted in bemusement. And then:

_Whhyy?_

“Why what?” Link said. “Oh, this? It’s all my notes and stuff. Wait, you don’t have paper. It’s, uh, it’s all the stuff I’m learning about you.” He tapped a finger against his temple, then pointed at Rhett. “Learn. About you.”

_Whhyy?_

“Because I’ve never met one of your species before. People like me — humans — we didn’t know you existed. No one’s ever met one of you before. I mean there’s fairy tales and stuff, but nothing real. Most of us don’t know about you. Did you know about us?”

Rhett nodded. _Wwe knnoww._

“How do you stay hidden so well?”

Rhett pondered this, but couldn’t find the words to explain and only shrugged.

“But then, why were you hanging out around our boat? Besides the food, I mean. If your species avoids humans, why would you take that risk?”

He didn’t know if he was making any sense, but then an image came to him: the boat as seen from below, sunlight sparkling down through the currents. Around a corner appeared a skinny shape in a wetsuit and scuba gear, swimming along from camera to camera, fiddling with each piece of equipment.

“...Me?”

Rhett shrugged, and his cheeks turned faintly greener.

_Is he... blushing?_

“You wanted to know what I was doing out here. You knew, didn’t you? Somehow you knew. You knew I was looking for you.”

Rhett shrugged again and scratched at his beard.

At that moment Jen returned with her prize: two fat, freshly-dispatched whiting. Rhett instantly perked up at the sight: his ears twitched straight, and his gills fluttered and rippled as he bit his lip with those sharp little teeth. He swam up to meet her and caught the first one before it could sink to the bottom — as Jen and Link watched, his talons sprang from his fingertips and he tore the fish in half before taking an enormous bite.

“Dude,” said Jen.

Rhett looked up at her, green cheeks puffed out around his mouthful.

_Thhank!_

“Um, OK, you have fun with that.” She tossed the other fish in and climbed down rather hastily. “C’mon Neal, let him eat his breakfast. You could probably use something to eat too.”

She headed for the ladder while Link lingered, staring at those vicious-looking talons.

“Link?”

He shook himself with a little shiver. “Yeah.” He doubted he could eat much after witnessing that, but coffee and clean clothes sounded pretty great right about now. Maybe a nap later if he could manage it; right now, coffee and clothes. As he climbed the ladder he got a whiff of one armpit and decided to add a shower to the list as well.

***

“Body length is approximately— Rhett, put your tail down— two hundred centimeters. Body temperature is — hold still— no, stop that— body temperature is— hey, come on...”

Rhett kept turning his head to look at the ear thermometer before it could get a reading. Link tried a few more times before he sighed and sent him a mental image of the cloacal thermometer; chastened, Rhett went still and let him continue unhindered.

“Body temp is... 99.4. Heart rate 113.” He glanced at the blood pressure cuff, but decided to save that for later and snapped the medkit closed. “There, was that so hard?”

Rhett flopped back into the tank and shook his head. _Whhyyy?_

“To learn about you, remember? And to make sure you’re healthy.”

He launched into a series of intricate underwater figure-eights, fins spreading out and swirling like a big green veil.

“Yeah, you seem fine to me too.”

_I fffffine._

Link chuckled to himself as he climbed down and got settled in again among his books. He’d created a little research area for himself in front of the tank, sitting on the cot with life preservers for a cushion and a stack of boxes covered with a tarp for a desk. He wrote by the light of his laptop, keeping the overheads low for Rhett’s sake; the soft lighting and wavy patterns from the tank created a cozy atmosphere to go along with the chillout mix he always used while he taking notes. Without pausing he dove back into his work. So much to do, so little time...

He was just getting absorbed when he felt the distinct sensation of being watched. He looked up and flinched; Rhett was just beyond the glass, munching on the fish Link brought him for lunch. Jen had drained them, at least, so he was blessedly spared the sight of fish gore clouding up the water again; but it was still disconcerting, especially when he was trying to concentrate.

_Whhat thisss?_

“I’m writing down the things I know about you.”

_Yourrrr llllearrning._

“Right. These—” he motioned to the textbooks— “are things humans know about the ocean. We write things down so other people can know them too.”

 _Yyyou lllearrrn mmme?_ He looked flattered, rather pleased with himself actually; but then his green brows furrowed. _Otherrrs knnnow?_

“Not yet. Do you really want to stay hidden? There’s so much your species could teach us about the ocean.”

A sense of discomfort rolled through Link: reluctance, even sadness, too complex to communicate yet.  _I... I nnnot..._

“Hey, it’s OK,” Link assured him. “We can deal with that later. I haven’t told anyone yet. No one knows about you except me and Jen.”

Relief, and a grateful smile. _Thhhank._

He went back to chomping on his fish, and Link could only marvel once again that this was actually happening. If someone had told him 24 hours ago that he would be sitting in front of the specimen tank having a telepathic conversation with a merm— but no, he still couldn’t bring himself to use that word. Even if he knew it was the correct one.

He didn’t want to admit it, but this exchange had confirmed his dilemma: he had found the knowledge he’d been seeking for so long, and he could not share it with anyone. His academic brain screamed phrases at him like the greater good and scientific responsibility; but his sense of ethics knew that he had no right to single-handedly take away the agency of an entire species. The creature smiling at him was not human, but if he was a sentient being, then he had the same rights as one.

When he grinned at Link like that it was almost easy to forget he wasn’t human — other than the green skin and pointed ears and big shiny eyeballs, his face was just like any other thirty-something man Link had ever known. Well, not _just_ like... he had quite a face, with that strong brow and those mischievous eyes and that boyish smile, and that beard (especially the beard). If he were a human man, he’d actually be quite handsome.

 _But he is,_ Link thought. _He’s beautiful._

He tried to take the thought back, to reel it back into his head like one of Jen’s drop lines, but it was too late. Rhett stopped chewing, and his eyes grew round. His grin vanished beneath his beard; he blinked at Link a few times, swallowed, and then his cheeks flushed a deep emerald green.

It slammed into Link like a fist in the gut. What the hell was he thinking? He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, quickly filling his head with diagrams and evolutionary charts. Rhett returned to his lunch, finishing off the fish in one more bite. He licked his fingers, partly to clean them and partly to hide the smile growing behind his big webbed hands. A soft, quiet voice slipped like a purr into Link’s head.

_Yyyou alsso, Lllink._

Link bent his head behind his laptop screen and typed as loudly as he could. In his peripheral vision he saw Rhett swim away, still smiling, turning big, lazy circles in the water, like a slow and graceful dance.

***

“We need to talk about this,” Jen said at supper that night.

“Talk about what?” Link replied around a mouthful of marinara. He was in a good mood after making so much progress today, and Spaghetti Night made him even more chipper.

“I know you’re having fun with your new friend, but you need to start thinking about who you’re going to tell about this. Or if you’re going to tell anyone at all.”

“Dude, it’s only been one day! I’ve barely had any time to study him. If we have to keep him hidden, who knows if anyone will ever have this chance again? I mean they’re obviously pretty good at keeping out of sight.”

“Not this one, apparently.”

Link grinned. “He could if he wanted to. He’s so smart, Jen — I feel like I’m not the only one learning stuff, you know? And we’ve barely scratched the surface. I guess...” His smile faded. “I just found him, and I guess I don’t like the thought of leaving him behind.”

“Mm-hmm.” Jen drank her beer, paused. “You can’t keep him, you know.”

“What do you mean ‘keep him’? He’s not a pet.”

“That’s what I’m saying. If he’s a person the same as us, you can’t just keep him in a tank. He’s probably got a family or something.”

That caught Link off guard. The thought never crossed his mind — of course Rhett might have a family. Any sentient species would have social groups, friends, families… mates.

“Link? You OK?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. I just hadn’t thought about that. I guess I let myself get kind of caught up.”

“I’m not trying to be a hardass, you know. I know how important this is to you. You know that, right?”

“I know. And you’re not — I should have thought about that. You keep my head on straight, you know that.”

She smiled at him and swigged down the rest of her beer. “Just remember, no matter what happens: you found him once, you can find him again.”  
Link reached for another piece of garlic bread, but he couldn’t quite manage a smile. “Yeah.”

***

“Rhett — is there someone who’s missing you?”

Rhett tilted his head, their signal that meant ‘I don’t get what you mean’. Link thought of his mom: the last time he’d seen her, hugging her when she opened the door; himself as a child, running to meet his parents; random images of friends greeting each other, happy couples kissing. He gestured their signal that meant ‘does this thing I’m thinking about apply to you?’

Rhett shook his head.

“No family? No… other people?”

_Nnnno._

“You’re all alone?” _Jeez, don’t make it sound so dramatic, Neal. Maybe they’re a solitary species._

Rhett shrugged and changed the subject: _Yyyou have otherrrs? Jjjen, she is—_

“No! Oh my gosh, no. Jen’s my friend, that’s it. I… um… well, I…” His cheeks began to burn, but Rhett saved him from explaining the complexities of human sexuality with an empathetic nod.

_Yyyou alone alssso._

Link started to protest, but in the end he just nodded. “Yeah, I guess I am.” Rhett blinked at him, and he shook himself and turned back to his work. “Well, anyway, I just wanted to be sure we weren’t keeping you prisoner or anything.”

He typed in silence for a while, but he could feel Rhett watching him. When he glanced up, Rhett craned his neck to peer at the books and papers lying all around him.

_Llllearrning mmmany things?_

“Oh yeah, tons of stuff. Mostly anatomy and physiology — that’s how our bodies are made, how we’re different and how we’re similar. That’s what I’m learning right now.”

_And thhhis?_

He pointed a webbed finger at the drawing pad lying near the copy of Elsevier’s _Marine Mammals_. It was open to a page of sketches Link had done the night before: detailed drawings of Rhett’s caudal fins, one outstretched hand, and his sleeping face.

“Well, yeah,” Link said. “It’s called an anatomical study. It’s very... scientific.” He reached over and snapped the sketchbook shut, but even without looking he could see Rhett’s little smirk in his mind. Flustered, he closed his laptop and stood up, stretching out the kink in his neck.

“Anyway, it’s getting late. I should get to bed, I didn’t get much sleep last night. So.. OK. Do you need anything before I go up?”

_Nnnno._

“Well, just, uh, just call me if you do.” Link tucked the sketchpad out of sight beneath a notebook, then straightened his glasses and cleared his throat. “OK then. ...Good night, Rhett. Sleep well.”

As he climbed the ladder he heard the soft reply: _Goodnnnight, Llllink._

***

The next morning Link checked Rhett’s wound again to find it healing perfectly. He had a remarkable metabolism; by the time the stitches dissolved he’d be practically good as new. Link tried to communicate this and was fairly successful at getting the message across; feeling pleased with himself, he added with a wink, “No more fighting with sharks, OK?”

Rhett shrugged, grinning, and Link laughed as he put the medkit away. But his good mood abruptly faded when the realization hit him of what this prognosis implied. He’d had a full day and night; he couldn’t be greedy. Sooner or later he would have to make a decision. Link sat down cross-legged on the walkway, fidgeting with his shoelaces, and decided there was no sense putting it off.

“So... that means I don’t need to keep you here anymore.”

Rhett’s brow crinkled, and his ears flattened back a little against his head.

“I mean I know I can’t keep you here forever even if I wanted to — not that I want to, I mean, but we’re gonna have to go back to Scotland for more fuel soon and you probably don’t want to...” He trailed off, crestfallen, and tugged awkwardly at one shoelace. “You probably want to go home.”

A webbed hand slipped around his wrist; smooth and slick, surprisingly warm. It was the most peculiar sensation, and the fine hairs rose on Link’s arm.

_Ssswimm with mme, Lllink._

“I’m... I’d have to change first. The water’s too cold for me, my skin’s not as tough as yours.”

_Nnot cold. Wwarrm. Come and sswimm._

“Well, just remember I can’t breathe underwater like you. Go easy on me.”

Link pulled off his shoes and dipped his feet in the water. He wouldn’t quite call it warm, but it was pretty close; whether from the boat’s furnace or Rhett’s body heat or both, it was tolerable enough to swim without a wetsuit. He glanced over at the clotheslines by the back wall for some trunks, but saw none, only towels and a rash guard; he’d have to go up to his cabin and dig out a pair. Then he remembered he was wearing his black boxer briefs — those would cover him enough for decency. He shed his jeans and t-shirt, leaving them folded near the steps, and switched out his glasses for the swim goggles he kept hanging by the tank ladder. As he sat down to dangle his legs in the water he suddenly wished he’d gone back for the trunks; the black undies left little to the imagination. Rhett didn’t know the difference anyway, he told himself.

Rhett touched one leg beneath the water, tilting his head inquisitively at the feel of the sharp shinbone and hairy skin. _Ssso diff’rrrent._

“Not really. I’d have to get an x-ray, but I bet we have similar bone structure. Most ocean mammals do. My limbs evolved for walking, yours for swimming. But scientifically speaking, we’re not that different.”

Rhett smiled.

Link adjusted his goggles, took a breath, and hopped into the water. He rolled onto his back to wet his hair and acclimate to the chilly water; something bumped him and he opened his eyes to see Rhett’s head peeking above the surface, just far enough for him to spew a stream of water from his mouth onto Link’s face.

“Hey!”

Rhett disappeared and Link dove in after him. They chased each other around the tank — Rhett was far faster and more agile, but Link was no slouch in the water, and soon he no longer noticed the water temperature. He swam up for some air and returned to find Rhett smirking at him, watching his legs kicking and slicing as he swam. He got a sudden image of a sea bird standing on a rock, skinny legs bent — in retaliation he sent back an image of a giant blue whale flopping into the water. Rhett grabbed him and they twirled over and over through the water, wrestling, Link’s breath leaving him in gouts of bubbles as he laughed.

They came to rest near the bottom, still entangled, face to face. Link’s chest began to ache, from need of air, but not entirely. Abruptly he pulled away to swim for the surface, but Rhett held him fast by the wrist.

_Wwwait._

_Need air—have to—_

_Ssstay with mme._

_I need air, I need air!—Rhett!—!!_

Panic broke his thoughts into wordless protest. His chest burned and his heart pounded in his ears; he yanked his wrist from Rhett’s grip and swam blindly for the surface. Before he got two strokes in, Rhett’s arms wrapped around his body and pulled him back down. He turned Link to face him, then put a hand to the back of Link’s head and pressed their mouths together.

Link’s lips parted and fresh, clean air blew gently down his throat. He heard a soft bubbling and realized Rhett was breathing for him, filling both their lungs with pure oxygen filtered from the water. It tasted vaguely sweet, not at all salty, and warm from Rhett’s body heat. Link’s eyes opened wide, and Rhett drew back so he could exhale. When the bubbles cleared between them, he saw that Rhett was smiling.

_Sssee? Ssstay._

Link’s hands relaxed on Rhett’s shoulders. He watched in fascination as Rhett’s gills rippled and pulsed, and then he leaned in for another breath. His hands slid down Rhett’s arms and moved lower, first to grip his waist, then to wind his arms around it. They were belly to belly, Rhett’s skin smooth and slick, Link’s goosebumped and furry; Rhett held him tight, one hand cupping the back of his head and the other spread across the small of his back. His tail curled around Link’s legs, soft fins brushing against his skin like a silky curtain. Face to face in the water, he had the strong arms and solid chest and rounded shoulders of any man Link had ever kissed.

_—not a man—he’s not a man he’s not a man!!—_

Link wrenched himself free, spewing out Rhett’s breath in a stream of bubbles that followed him to the surface. He broke through with a gasp and groped for the ladder; he caught a knee on the lip and sprawled across the walkway, swearing. A moment later Rhett appeared, brows crinkled in dismay.

_Lllink — whatss wrrrong? Link—_

“No, stop, just— just stay there. I can’t…”

He swore again and hauled himself to his feet, still coughing, and hurried down the steps without stopping to fetch his clothes. Shivering in his underwear, leaving wet footprints across the floor, Link fled the hold with his hands clamped against his ears as if they could do anything to block the sound of Rhett’s voice calling after him inside his head.


	3. Chapter 3

_Llllink!_

Link gasped and jerked awake. “What—”

No one there. He glanced at the clock by his bunk — 2:17am. Sighing, he lay back and tried to calm his racing heart. Another dream. But then it came again, louder this time, more plaintive: _Llllink!_

Link rolled over to face the wall and stuffed a pillow against his ear, but he couldn’t block out the voice that was inside his own head. He’d managed to dismiss it for most of the evening, but half-asleep in the still small hours of the night, it was too loud to ignore.

_Llllink!_

At last he clambered out of the bunk and pulled on some shorts. It was warm in his cabin, but as he walked barefoot down the hall the air grew progressively cooler, and he was shivering by the time he climbed down the ladder to the hold.

“What do you want?”

Rhett swam to the wall as he approached and put both hands to the plexiglass.

_Whhy did yyou go?_

“It’s two in the morning, Rhett. I’m trying to sleep.”

_Yyyou sssstayyed awayyy._

“I was busy. I had work to do.”

_Angrrry wwwith me._

“Don’t be silly—”

The image shot into him like an arrow, amplified by Rhett’s brimming emotions: he saw himself, wrenching himself from Rhett’s arms with a look of disgust and revulsion on his face.

“...Is that what I looked like?”

_Upssset yyyou. Sssorrrry._

“No— no, Rhett, I’m not upset. I mean, I am, but it’s not your fault.”

Relief swept over him from top to tail. His shoulders relaxed and his fins unfurled; his gills fluttered almost like a sigh, and he gestured to the surface with one hand, beckoning to Link with the other. _Pleassse._

Reluctantly Link trudged up the steps and sat down, wadding a folded towel beneath his ass to protect his junk from the cold metal. Why on earth hadn’t he put on some proper clothes?? Rhett broke the surface and drew close, but when Link shrank back his green brow furrowed in dismay.

_Whhy did yyou go?_

He put a hand on Link’s knee: broad and warm, the thick webbing covering Link’s chilly skin. He was always so warm…

“I was just... I was scared, I needed to breathe. You caught me off guard. And for me, for humans, that kind of touch…” He looked away, feeling his face begin to burn. “What I mean is, that’s not something we…”

_Yyyou do not kisss?_

Link’s head whipped up, eyes wide. He saw himself again: himself as Rhett had seen him, blue eyes big and shining, mouth clamped tight to hold in his precious breath, pulse hammering frantically in his neck, black hair waving in the water. And then Rhett looking down at him, green arms wrapped around his pale body, gills twitching with his pounding heart—

“You felt it too,” Link breathed.

Rhett smiled softly. He pushed himself up until they were face to face, until Link could feel his warmth and see the water from his beard pooling atop his collarbones. His gills closed and his nostrils opened; he drew in a long, slow breath, let it out, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Link’s.

Link’s eyes fell closed. There was no panic this time, no fear, no gasping for air — just a gentle kiss, soft beard and warm lips. As sweet a kiss as any Link had ever known, and yet entirely different from anything he’d ever felt. He put his hands on Rhett’s face to feel that beard beneath his palms, to slide his fingers through the thick hair on Rhett’s temples. One hand brushed against Rhett’s ear — it twitched at the touch, rough and pointed beneath Link’s fingers—

_—no!!—_

He broke free and pushed Rhett away. Rhett reached for him but he lurched to his feet, scrambling backward until his ass hit the railing.

“This isn’t right,” he blurted.

_Lllink—_

“It’s not right! I can’t— I have to go. I have to go…”

He stumbled down the steps practically ran from the hold, but even closing the hatch behind him couldn’t block the sound of Rhett calling his name over and over, a painful echo in his mind, until the sound finally faded away.

***

A hand on Link’s shoulder made him jerk and swear. He looked up to see Jen standing behind him, framed by the midday sun. The glare blinded him and he frowned as he pulled off his headphones. “What?”

“Since when do you listen to music while you work?”

“Since now,” he snapped. “What do you want?”

“Geez, I’m just asking. No need to bite my head off. I just came to see if you were OK. You’ve barely said two words all day.”

“I was working.” Link pulled off his glasses and rubbed his bleary, gritty eyes. Typing always gave him a headache, and after a sleepless night spent typing for hours with his Bose blasting industrial music into his head at near-deafening volume, pretty much every part of him hurt. He dug around through the clutter on his desk, searching for his bottle of aspirin. “How far out are we?”

“Huh?”

“How far are we from the nearest port?”

“I’m not sure, I’d have to check the GPS. Why? Are you sick? Is it Rhett?”

_Yes and yes._

She was in a bikini top and shorts, probably sunning herself on the deck, enjoying the pleasant weather while she could; now she pulled her sunglasses down to eye him. “Dude, are you OK?”

“Of course I am. I’m just ready to head back. Can we do that?”

“This is your cruise, Neal, all I gotta do is start the engines. You want to refuel at Shetland or go back to the lab?”

“Back to the lab. I need to, uh, check some…things.”

“What about Rhett? Are we taking him with us?”

“No. He wants to stay out of sight, I have to respect that. At least for now.”

“You sure you’re OK, Link? You look like hell.”

“I’m fine. I just need to get back on solid ground, that’s all.”

She eyed him a bit longer, then said, “If I start the engines now we can probably make Orkney by tomorrow night. Do you need more time to—”

“No, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“So... you should probably go tell Rhett.”

“I will.” He found the aspirin and popped two tablets with a swig from his can of Sprite. He shuddered like it was a double shot of whiskey, then got up and stretched until his stiff back crackled.

“What, that’s it? You’re just gonna open the door and kick him out?”

“Weren’t you the one who said I couldn’t keep him? We can’t stay out here forever, right? Might as well do it now.”

He put his glasses back on and scratched his stubbled jaw. She patted him on the shoulder and climbed up to the bridge, while he squared his shoulders and headed down to the hold.

“Might as well do it now,” he said again.

***

Before he’d climbed halfway down the hold ladder he heard a happy voice: _Llllink!_

Rhett swam up to meet him, smiling ear to ear, his gills fluttering in relief. 

_Lllink—_

“I’m going back to Scotland,” Link said.

Rhett’s smile faltered.

“The boat needs more fuel, and I have other work to do.” The latter was entirely false, but it was possible the former might not be a total lie. “It’ll take us a day or two to get back to Orkney, but I thought you’d want to know as soon as possible, before we get too far away.”

Rhett’s ears flattened. He put a hand to the glass, gray eyes shining with sudden pain. _Yyyou... llleave?_

“I don’t belong out here. I only came here to…” To find you, he thought, but spared them both the words.

_Sssstay._

“I can’t. This isn’t my home, it’s yours. You belong here.”

Rhett shook his head. _Sssea is big. I come with yyyyou._

“That’s not possible. This...” To Link’s horror his voice threatened to crack, and he clamped down on the reaction as he clamped down on his feelings. “This can’t happen, Rhett. We’re too different.”

_Nnnot diff'rrent. Sssamme._

“It’s time for me to go home. And you too.”

_Nnno. No hhhome._

Without warning rapid images began flying through Link’s head: bright water swirling, rushing bubbles, flashing teeth, dark blood. A huge shape coming closer, faster and faster, not the porbeagle but something much bigger, rows of gory teeth, chunks of green flesh trailing from its maw. The flashes disappeared as quickly as they’d come, but they left Link reeling.

“What happened to you?” he whispered.

Rhett shook his head. _Llllong ago._ Link felt his regret; he hadn’t meant to let the memory out, let alone fling it at Link. _Lllong ago, not now. Nowww..._ He put a hand over his wound, where Link had stitched him up. _Yyyou found mme._

Link moved closer and put a hand to the glass. Rhett did the same, resting his forehead against Link’s fingers.

Softly Link said, “You found me first.”

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, and he stepped back and shook his head. He reached for the hatch lever and said, “But this is how it has to be. It’s better for both of us.”

The hatch slowly opened with the noise of grinding gears and rushing water. The water outside was bright with streaks of filtered sunlight.  
“I won’t tell your secret, I promise,” Link said. “You’ll be alright now.”

Rhett’s fingers slowly curled closed. His eyes blinked rapidly, and his gills went limp as he shook his head.

_Nnno. Not nnowww._

He turned and swam toward the open hatch, and only paused once to look back before he slipped through and was gone.

Link closed the hatch and wiped his eyes with one sleeve. He turned off the hull lights, then the cameras, and then all his other equipment. The hold turned dark and empty, and he trudged over to his makeshift desk and began dismantling it piece by piece. His laptops and tablets went into the equipment locker; his books and papers went into his backpack. When he picked up his sketchpad, it fell open to the page of pencil studies, the details of Rhett’s hands and face. Link snapped the sketchbook shut and shoved it into the bag, yanking the zipper closed. When he left the hold, he closed the hatch behind him.

Up on the deck he went to his observation desk and down his and displays one at a time. The deck vibrated beneath his feet as the boat’s engines abruptly roared into life; the sounds of creaking rope and lapping waves turned into churning machinery and rushing water. Link looked at the last screen still glowing, the sonar display. A greenish shape hovered near the outer edge; as the boat began to pick up speed, the shape did too, matching their pace, never slowing. The display blurred in Link’s eyes, and he knuckled away a tear before he leaned over and switched it off.

***

 _four days later_  
_the Orkney coast_

The sun crept along its slow arc toward the west, streaking the wide sky with crimson and gold. Hours would pass before it truly set, dipping just below the horizon to turn the world to hazy gray dusk for a few hours before it rose again on another misty summer morning. Until then it lingered, passing between layers of wispy cloud, drawing slowly down the sky toward peaceful, placid twilight.

Link loved this time of day best. Back home in North Carolina it would be dark by now, but up here the days stretched on for so long that it seemed like time itself moved more slowly. Whenever he was in Orkney he came out here every evening to his favorite spot: a flat stone in front of a large outcropping, near a natural bridge that shielded him from the wind and spray. He loved to sit out here alone, hidden from the buildings a hundred yards away, and listen to the waves crash on the rocks and the sea birds calling. It was one of the few places on earth where he could truly be alone with his thoughts. Right now, however, his thoughts did not make very friendly companions.

He hugged his knees to his chest and looked out at the endless sea. It was a warm day, and in a t-shirt and jeans he only needed a thin jacket even with the endless wind coming in off the ocean; as long as he stayed on this side of the outcrop, he was comfortable enough. The stone was cold beneath him, but the sunlight was warm on his face.

Two days back at work and he still felt unsettled. At least he didn’t have to talk to anyone; Jen was doing maintenance on the boat and restocking supplies for the trip back to the States, and most of the station staff were on summer break until August. He was grateful for that blessing, at least. He had enough to think about without having to explain why he’d come back so soon after heading out to sea. He was beyond explanations anyway; it was too painful to recall the events of the past week, let alone explain them. When he and Jen put in at the pier, he’d dragged all his research to a file cabinet and put the key in his pocket, where it had stayed ever since. It was there right now: a small, solid presence, always in the back of his mind, just like the one whose existence it protected.

He was watching a puffin waddle across a sandbar, envying its uncomplicated and solitary existence, when something caught his eye near the rocks. A dark shape moved beneath the water, slipping beneath the stone bridge to shield itself from the sun. Link blinked and looked again — his imagination often got the better of him in this way. But then the shape moved again, and something appeared above the surface for the briefest instant: the point of a wide fin, gauzy and pale, curling toward him before disappearing.

_...Rhett?_

A green head broke the surface, rising just enough to expose two large eyes and two round cheeks.

_Hhhello Lllink._

Link shot to his feet and looked around in alarm. He knew no one was there — not only were the staff gone, but the local farmer kept his sheep on the other side of the island this time of year to avoid the wind. Link turned back and Rhett had disappeared — but a moment later he popped up again, several yards closer.

_Someone will see you!_

Rhett shook his head and grinned. It was a mysterious gesture — did he know Link was alone, or did he not care if someone saw him? This was Orkney, after all.

Link picked his way across the rocks until he reached the stone outcrop. The wind made him shiver until he crouched down again, and the noise from the waves would have drowned out his voice if he were speaking aloud.

_What are you doing here?!_

Rhett smoothed a lock of green hair back from his face and smiled.  _Ffffound yyyou._

He swam closer, still hidden from outside view behind the rocks. He did it so easily that Link wondered how many shores he had visited before — maybe Link was not the first human he had seen after all. But he was the first one Rhett had spoken to, that much he knew. How he knew, he wasn’t sure, but he knew it all the same.

Link found a place where Rhett could swim all the way up to him. He knelt on the stone and reached out to touch Rhett’s hair; it blew in the wind, and he grinned at Link’s shivering and held out a hand.

“I can’t get in the water, I don’t have a wetsuit with me. It’s way too cold.”

Rhett shook his head and pointed beneath the bridge, where the rock formed a natural alcove. Link found a nice dry space within, a flat shelf where he could sit protected from wind, water, and witnesses. Rhett swam up to him and then hoisted himself beside Link, sitting on the stone with his tail trailing into the water.

“You really followed us all the way here?”

 _Nnnot harrrrd._ He sent Link an image of the boat’s churning wake, then clumps of fish dangling from a line.

“Jen,” Link said. “Jen left you a trail.”

Rhett smiled and rubbed his tummy.

Link laughed despite himself. He should have known Jen would be more sensible about this than he was. How much she knew or didn’t know he couldn’t think about right now — at this moment he didn’t care, he was so happy to see Rhett again. Soon enough, however, his smile faded as reality set in.

“Nothing’s changed, Rhett. This isn’t my home, it’s just where I work. I live far away from here.”

_I knnow. Sssea is big._

“Yeah, but even if you came with me, we can’t... We can’t do what we did.”

_Whhhyy nnnot?_

“Because I’m human and you’re... you’re you. We’re not the same. It wouldn’t be right.”

_Whhhyy? Whhhyy wrrrong?_

Link opened his mouth to explain, but then he realized he couldn’t come up with anything. If Rhett were a different race or gender or social class such reasoning would be unacceptable; was physical dissimilarity really any different, if they were both sentient beings with free will? Rhett had proven his free will clearly enough, swimming nearly two hundred miles to find him. To find _him_.

“I don’t know,” Link said. “Maybe it’s not.”

Rhett smiled. He scooted closer and put a hand over Link’s — warm and dry, the slick skin raising goosebumps on Link’s arm like it always did. The slanted sunlight turned his skin a soft shade of sea-foam, while his tail looked almost opalescent.

“How long can you stay here like this?”

Rhett shrugged, and Link wondered if his species had any concept of time, at least as humans measured it. How wonderful that would be, he thought: a life without hours or minutes.

“Well, tell me if you need to go under, OK? Don’t make yourself sick for my sake.”

Rhett eyed him from beneath those thick green brows. _Mmmaybe yyyou help me againn._

Warmth bloomed in Link’s cheeks. Rhett reached over and plucked at the zipper on his hoodie, mystified by the folds of fabric.

_These thingsss — yyou need themm? Fffor cold?_

Link decided the historical context of human social mores could wait for another time and answered simply, “Yes.”

This made Rhett nod in thought for a moment. Then he bit his lip with one pointy tooth and tugged again at the soft cotton.

_I am wwwarrrrrm._

Link’s face flared hot, while other types of warmth sprang up elsewhere in his body. He glanced around nervously, although he knew there was no one within miles. But still… Did he mean… Could they really...?

Rhett held up a hand and extended his talons, razor-sharp points aimed at Link’s clothes. _I hhhelp?_

“No! No, that’s not necessary.” Link hesitated a moment longer, and then he quickly shucked his hoodie, shirt, and shoes. He tucked his glasses safely away in the bundle and started working on his jeans when he heard a distinct _snirksnirksnirk_  and looked up to see Rhett stifling his amusement.

“What’s so funny?”

Rhett touched the hair on Link’s chest, dragging one talon through the tufts with a little scraping sound. An image popped into Link’s head of sea moss floating atop the waves.

“It’s just hair,” he said, and reached out to run a finger through Rhett’s beard. “Same as this. Well, mostly.”

He was shivering now, partially from the chill and partially from the chagrin of being studied so closely — he was used to examining, not being examined. He got his jeans off, hesitated a second longer, then doffed his skivvies with as little awkwardness as he could manage. Rhett glanced down, and his eyebrows rose. His lower body was cetacean, which meant he kept everything inside until it was needed; how convenient that must be, not to mention less embarrassing. Link almost envied him. But before he ponder this further, Rhett swung his tail up onto the rock and hoisted himself forward, and Link suddenly found himself pressed to his back beneath the weight of a heavy, damp body.

_Sssee? Wwarrrrm._

“Yes, you are.”

The talons were gone now; Rhett smoothed Link’s hair back with a blunt-fingered hand, the soft webbing lingering on Link’s cheek. When Link reached up to touch Rhett’s beard, his ears twitched as he made a sound incredibly close to a purr. Now it was Link’s turn to grin mischievously.

“Do you like that?”

Rhett smiled and kissed him. He was so soft and so warm, he covered Link so completely, that the last shred of hesitance evaporated and he wound both arms around Rhett’s neck to pull him close.

How different he was, and how familiar. Link tried to analyze every movement, every sensation, but Rhett’s mouth on his quickly eroded his ability to concentrate. He drew a knee up to feel as much of him as possible, unashamed now of the hardness pressing against Rhett’s belly. How far could this go? How far did he want it to go? Link was past caring — he felt like he could stay here forever, lying on the rocks with the waves crashing around them and the seagulls crying overhead. Rhett’s hand slid down his body and he shuddered, sighing against Rhett’s mouth. How different they were, and how perfectly they fit together.

_Rhett—_

He had no words for what he felt, but Rhett heard him anyway. They touched not only bodies but minds as well, and the combination was almost more than Link could bear. He felt the pleasure Rhett gave to him but also what he gave back, how he felt in Rhett’s arms, how he looked in Rhett’s eyes, what they said to each other without uttering a word. It almost overwhelmed him, but at the last moment Rhett drew back just enough to let him breathe, gasping while those big hands held him steady. He opened his eyes and looked up into Rhett’s face.

_How is this possible?_

Rhett smiled. _Wwwe arrre the same._

His belly was no longer soft — hardness lay next to Link’s, nearly double his own length, entwined around him, almost cradling him, a combination of penetration and frottage unlike anything he’d ever felt. _The ultimate grower,_ Link thought crazily, and almost burst out laughing; but then Rhett moved against him, and the laugh became a stifled moan.

Joined like this, entwined as they were, they barely needed to move before Link’s back arched on the stone and he bit his lip to stop himself from crying out; Rhett held him steady, and together they rolled over so neither would bear too much weight on the rough rocks. Link wound a leg over Rhett’s tail, trying to get as close as possible, and Rhett spread his fins like a warm blanket over him to shield him from the chill. Warmth and coolness, softness and hardness, the smell of salt in Rhett’s beard and sweat on Link’s skin — it didn’t take long before they both shuddered and clutched at each other’s backs, their voices mingling not in the windy air but in the warm white noise of their shared thoughts.

Link lay there, gasping, until he felt coherent enough to open his eyes. Rhett was watching him, smiling down at him with one hand spread across the hair on his chest.

“Is it always like that?” Link breathed.

Rhett’s eyes glinted, and he winked as he had seen Link do. _Mmmmaybe._

Link laughed, though in his breathless state it was little more than a chuckle. He snuggled closer for warmth and Rhett drew him close, covering as much of him as possible with his fins. The sunlight angled low across their bodies, and the sky beyond the outcrop blazed golden pink with the waning light. The dim was nearly here.

_Whhhen yyou go home?_

“I don’t know. I usually go back in October. I live far away from here, near a different part of the ocean. The days aren’t as long, but the water is much warmer.” With a chuckle Link added, “And so are the winters.”

Rhett purred, a rumbling hum in his chest against Link’s ear. _Mmmaybe I come with yyou._

“I would like that,” Link said. He pictured Jen’s boat somewhere off the Outer Banks, bright blue skies, snorkeling, sunset, wide sky full of stars. Rhett purred again and pulled him close, and Link knew he could see it too. Dreamily he said, “I would like that very much.”

_Yyyyesss. Hhhappy therrre._

“But what about the others like you? There are more of you, right?”

Rhett nodded. _Mmmany mmmorre._

“Then wouldn’t you rather be with them? Or are they all over the place? What about your friends, your family?”

With a chill it came back to him: the memory of sudden violence and sudden loss. He opened his eyes and raised his head, alarmed, but Rhett shook his head in gentle reassurance. 

_Llllong ago. Mmmany sunsss. Ffffine nnoww. Nnno fffamily... I am alllonne._

Link smoothed his kelp-green hair back from his face, let his fingertips linger on one strange, shell-like ear. This time he did not draw away. He looked into Rhett’s eyes: foreign, alien, familiar, home.

“Not anymore,” he said.


End file.
